Chapter Thirty Three: The Snake, The Rat and The Riddle House

Sirius got dressed, without a word, and strapped the sword of Gryffindor to his waist. They both grabbed their wands and then left the hotel room … And as they left it felt like something wonderful was ending, like they were leaving a part of the world behind that they would never get back - and were now headed out to face the future, and whatever it might hold. But, as much as they may have both silently regretted this goodbye to what had been, they had no choice but to go out and meet whatever tonight had in store for them.

They sent Frank Bryce home, telling him to get inside, lock the doors and windows, close the curtains and not leave again until morning - no matter what he saw or heard up at the house.

'This man is dangerous and there is nothing you can do,' Remus told him. 'And it's not about bravery or age,' he said quickly - seeing Frank open his mouth to argue. 'This man is a killer - you know that better than anyone. If you go near him, he will kill you without hesitation - just like he killed the Riddles. If we fail … and we might … then you still need to keep your distance. And don't call in the … authorities. They can't help either. If we fail - get away from Little Hangleton.'

'Well I hope you don't fail then,' Frank said, 'I've nowhere else to go.' He looked at them both - at their matching, grim expressions - and the sticks they carried, which he did not understand - and the sword … which he wasn't mentioning because you don't really argue with a bloke with a sword. 'Good luck, then,' he said to them - and hobbled away home, leaning heavily on his cane.

'Are you ready?' Remus asked Sirius, once they were alone.

He took a deep breath - his face was pale but he looked determined. 'As I'll ever be.'

'Then let's go.'

...

They made their way up the hill in silence. Remus' heart was beating frantically against his rib cage - and he felt like his insides had been replaced with lead. Dread seemed to weigh heavy over both of them. It made the air feel thick - like they were having to wade their way through it; their limbs were numb and tingling and their steps were clumsy.

Every instinct he had was screaming at Remus to run as far away as he could, to find somewhere safe and distant and pretend this was not happening. But he could not do that; the Wizarding World might not know it, but every last one of them were depending on him and Sirius tonight. And they had to go up to the house and do what must be done … and then face whatever was to come afterwards.

The front door of the house bore no signs of being tampered with, and neither did any of the windows. But that was no surprise - a locked door was no insurmountable barrier to a wizard. But still they crept around to the back to use the door that was hidden from the street. They did not want an unsuspecting muggle to notice anything untoward and come investigating.

The back door was almost completely hidden by ivy, it had been so long since anyone had used it. They tore the worst of it away, whispered a hushed 'alohomora' and put a silencing charm on the hinges, before slipping inside the house.

The air was still, and bore the sweetly rotting scent of decay. Dust lay thick on the surfaces, and motes of it danced in the moonlight - the only sign of movement. There was a funereal atmosphere to the place - it felt as if it had been left untouched since the night the Riddle family died, like it had gone into hibernation and was patiently waiting for someone to bring it back to life.

Just standing in here felt like they had stepped back in time - right to the night of the murders - and that if they just found the right room, the bodies would still be there, in their evening wear, surprised expressions on their dead faces. Time lay thick in the air - and it truly felt that, in here at least, the intervening decades had not happened.

They had stepped into a cavernous kitchen. There were tiles on the floor, a rusty butler's sink hanging on the wall and an ancient stove. Water dripped in a steady rhythm from the tap and something unseen scuttled behind the skirting boards. It was stifling - fifty years of no air made it feel like they were inside the stove itself, and the heat was being turned up. But beyond the dust and the cobwebs and the pitter patter of tiny feet in the walls, there was nothing there … and so, whispering 'lumos' to light up their wands, they crept further into the house.

The mullioned windows allowed a little more light to stream into the hallway. There were still no signs of life, but a grand staircase twisted its way up the next floor and with a glance, and a determined nod at each other, the boys made their way up; treading as softly as they could in the hope of avoiding creaking floorboards.

Once on the landing, they could see exactly where Voldemort and Peter must be holed up. At the very end of the passage, a door stood ajar - and the flickering quality of light that shone through the cracks told them a fire had been lit inside.

They edged towards it - their wands raised, their hearts hammering in their chests and their breathing rapid and shallow. Every so often, they would glance at each other - and even in the darkness, Remus could see how pale Sirius was - and the glimmer of fear in his eyes.

When they were still several steps away, they finally got a view inside the room. There was a large winged backed armchair in front of the grate, where the fire blazed away. They could not see anyone in the chair - but suddenly a hunched shape loomed out of the shadow, and began to talk to someone sitting in it. Peter's familiar, timid voice said, 'there is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry.' He sounded fearful - and like he was deeply regretting where life had taken him. He sounded like he very much wished he was still living safely and comfortably as a rat, sleeping in Ron Weasley's bedroom.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other again - and for a moment there was a recognition of shared sorrow between them. Of everything they had lost. Of Peter's betraying them - of his becoming this, and their losing James because of it, and everything that led them to be here, tonight - expecting to kill one of their oldest friends. How different it all could have been.

And then the reason for all their loss spoke up - his voice cutting through the air like a chill blast of icy wind. 'Later.' And just that one word made all the hairs on the back of Remus' neck stand up. 'Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail,' Lord Voldemort said.

They caught a clearer glimpse of Peter then, of his dark cloak and his balding head, as he shoved the chair towards the fire, its feet making a scraping sound as they dragged across the wooden floor. He disappeared from view again.

'Where is Nagini?' Voldemort asked.

'I - I don't know, My Lord, she set out to explore the house I think.'

'You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail. The journey has tired me greatly and I will need feeding in the night.'

The boys looked at each other, their noses wrinkling in disgust. 'Let's find the snake,' Sirius mouthed, jerking his head in the opposite direction to the room Voldemort and Peter were holed up in. 'Let's take care of her first.'

Remus nodded and they crept away, back down the passage; the voices of Peter and his master getting more distant and harder to discern.

...

The house was large, and there were a great many rooms - all as deathly still as the kitchen had been, all with that same mortuary air of waiting for something unknown.

The heat of the night, the stifling heat of the house, the stillness of the air and the pounding of the blood in his veins were all causing Remus to sweat. The back of his shirt was growing damp, his palms were clammy … He wanted this to be over and at the same time he did not want to find the snake, did not want to face Voldemort ... and Peter. He turned every corner feeling a mixture of dread and hope - and was met by a mixture of disappointment and relief every time he found a hallway or room clear.

But eventually - he caught sight of something in his wandlight. There was a thick track mark cutting its way through the dust of decades on the floor. He reached out and grabbed Sirius, who jumped as if he had just been hit by twitching jinx - and only managed to stop himself from crying out in alarm by clamping his hand firmly over his mouth.

'Sorry,' Remus hissed, 'look.' He raised his wand higher - to show Sirius what he had found. They looked at each other, nodded and - trembling a little - followed the slither marks until they came to a room with its door pushed slightly open. The dust was disturbed there as well, as if the snake had pushed itself through the narrow gap and gone inside.

They paused. 'On the count of three,' Sirius whispered. 'One - two - three', he kicked the door wider and they both stormed into the room, their wands raised …. Only to be met by nothing.

'Where is it?' Sirius asked. He used his wand light to peer under the bed, and down the sides of the wardrobes … but there was nothing there. 'She must be somewhere…'

But Remus was looking again at the track marks - at the way they trailed beneath the bedstead and back out and round and then … merged with the marks from earlier. 'She's been and gone,' he said, swallowing heavily. 'She went back the way she came - that means that she…' he turned back to the door, and felt the dread rise in him, '... has got behind us,' he finished up.

For there she was - in the doorway - watching them … hissing.

Sirius turned - and didn't miss a moment, 'stupefy' he whispered viciously, flicking his wand with such speed that it blurred. The red sparks flew from the tip and hit the snake … and bounced off as if they had been nothing. Nagini opened her mouth wide and hissed again - and began slithering towards them, her huge body undulating across the floor.

'Impedimenta,' Remus tried to slow her down … but again, the spell deflected right off her skin … and by now she was getting close - and they were backing up. 'Impetua.'

'Confringo.'

'Petrificus Totalus.'

'Impedimenta.'

'Stupefy.'

'STUPEFY.'

But nothing worked, the sparks bounced off Nagini - as if her skin were as curse-proof as dragonhide - and rebounded around the room; smashing into the furniture; setting things alight; knocking the door knob from the door … but not harming the snake at all.

And she was closer and closer, and they were pressed back against the window - with no where to go - cornered. Trapped. Shrinking back as far as they could.

Nagini reared back - she opened her mouth as wide as she could - and they saw every venomous fang glisten in the moonlight.

'Protego,' Remus cried - though he doubted his shield charm would do any more good than their curses had.

And then - with something between a hiss and snarl - she launched forwards, her massive body flying through the air - speeding like a bullet - her fangs gleaming and ready to bite…

And then something else gleamed in the moonlight.

Sirius had drawn the sword of Gryffindor with his left hand. He swung it in a wide arc and - just as Nagini was a moment from striking, smashed it down onto her neck - slicing through the trunk of her body and severing her head from the rest of her. She fell to the floor in pieces.

There was a deafening whumping sort of noise … and then black smoke seemed to stream from the stump of the snake, curling upwards - thick and blinding and screaming itself. It rose up and up, the sound becoming earsplitting; a bloodcurdling, marrow freezing shriek of pain and rage and failure …. And then it dissipated into nothing - leaving the room still and the snake dead on the floor.

Breathing heavily, the boys stared at each other, their faces white in shock. 'I told you the sword would come in handy,' Sirius said. His voice was trembling, but there was a ghost of a grin on his face.

'What just happened? What was that?'

'I have no idea.'

'Do you think they heard?'

'There's only one way to find out - come on.'

And gasping and panting and sweating profusely, they left the bedroom and headed back along the passage to Peter and Voldemort.

...

When they got back to the flickering firelight, nothing much seemed to have changed. Peter was still hunched and miserable and waiting on his master - who was still invisible in his chair. They had not seemed to hear the disturbance, or realised anything was amiss. And Remus and Sirius stood outside the door and listened in to their conversation.

'Wormtail, Wormtail … why would I kill you? I killed Bertha because I had too…'

Outside the door, the two of them looked at each other - remembering what had been done to Bertha's body, remembering how hard her death must have been - how frightening and painful and lonely. From the sound of it - even Peter did not think her death had been right; he seemed to say as much - but that only made Voldemort laugh.

Remus glanced again at Sirius, and saw that his hands were shaking - in fear or anger, he did not know. Inside the room, that cold voice kept on talking - cruel and amused and chillingly evil.

'One more curse,' Voldemort was saying. 'My faithful servant at Hogwarts… Harry Potter is as good as mine…'

Remus heard a low growl emanate from Sirius' throat … and realised what he was about to do - just as he was too late to stop him. 'Sirius - no!'

But Sirius wasn't listening. At this threat to his godson, he launched himself forward without thinking, kicked open the door, with a loud bang, and rushed headlong into the room.

With little choice but to follow, Remus rushed in after him.

'What is going on? Wormtail, what is happening?' The high pitched voice demanded from the chair.

Peter stood frozen to the spot, staring at the sudden appearance of his old friends. And apparently the shock of realising he had just done something so stupid and reckless had frozen Sirius to the spot too - because he was not moving either. They just stared at each other - and Remus looked between them.

'Wormtail!'

And the sound of Peter's old nickname - of his animagus form, learned out of love and used in secret for their monthly adventures - on the tongue of the Dark Lord himself - the man who had killed Prongs - seemed to unfreeze Sirius. His face twisted in rage. 'Stupefy,' he roared. And Peter was not protected as the snake had been … He fell to the ground with a thud. 'Incarcero.' Ropes flew out of the end of Sirius' wand, tying Peter hand and foot. Sirius was shaking with rage now.

'What? What is the meaning of this…' Voldemort's voice held a trace of hysteria. Unable to see what was happening, his servant out cold on the floor … he called for his snake. 'Nagini! Nagini!' He began to hiss and spit, speaking the strange language of the snakes, trying to call her to him.

'Nagini's not coming,' Sirius said, his voice trembling with anger. 'You should have killed us when you had the chance, Voldemort.'

'Nagini! Nagini!' And there was no hiding the hysteria laced panic in Voldemort's voice now.

Remus looked across at Sirius, asking - without speaking - what they should do. Voldemort was hidden in the chair - he was faced away from them, and it seemed he had not the power or strength or means to turn himself around and face them. He was helpless … but only as long as they stayed out of the way of his wand.

But they could not kill him from back here.

Sirius jerked his head towards the fire, telling Remus to edge towards it - going one way around the chair while he went the other … aiming to outflank Voldemort and converge on him in a pincer movement.

Remus nodded … and they both took their first step forward. But it was a cautious step - hesitant and wary. They had seen how Peter cringed away from whatever was in that chair. They had seen the feeble lump in his arms back in the forest … and they felt sick at the thought of what they might be about to see now.

He took another step … one more step and Voldemort would be in view … and more than any other time this evening, Remus wanted to run away and not look back.

He grit his teeth, steeled his spine - looked one final time at Sirius … and then took that final step.

'Oh God,' he raised his hand to his mouth and fought the urge to be sick. His whole body shuddered involuntarily - and after one quick glance he could not bring himself to look again.

It was like a baby … only no living child had ever looked like that. Its limbs were withered and feeble sticks, its head was too large for its body to support and its skin … Its skin was reddish black, raw and flayed looking. This was like a baby too monstrous to be born, who had died and dessicated and decomposed … and then been reanimated back to life. And its face … it was completely flat - its nose was no more than snake-like slits and its eyes gleamed a bright and cruel red.

'Oh God,' Remus said again, still trying not to look.

Sirius on the other hand, couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from it … though he was no less paralysed by horror. His wand was raised, but the curse never came. The sword was in his hand, but it never fell … He just stared - at the monster who had killed Prongs, who had killed Lily, who had orphaned Harry and was still trying to harm him. He stared in frozen revulsion at what this monster had become.

And the hysteria and the panic left Voldemort's voice, as he saw them so floored by his own hideousness, and he began to laugh - a spine tingling, icy blast of high pitched mirth. 'So - my two, fine heroes - you come all this way to challenge me and yet now find yourselves too afraid to even look at me. So much for the bravery of Gryffindors. Yes… this is what I have become. This is what Harry Potter has made of me. But I will be whole again. And I shall use your precious Harry Potter to make myself new - and you abject failures will not save him. You shall be dead.'

Again, the threat to Harry seemed to snap Sirius out of his horrified reverie. He raised his wand again.

'Expelliarmus,' Voldemort was quicker. Of course he was. And the wand jumped from Sirius' hand and flew across the room. 'Dear dear, what shall you do now?' He laughed again. Remus still could not bring himself to look at him for more than a moment at a time.

'I shall kill you both,' the chill voice told them. 'I have spared your life - back in the forest - I have balanced out the mercy you showed Wormtail. I can kill you with impunity now … But first - a little fun. A little pain. To teach you - before you die - the folly of hubris. Two insignificant boys like yourselves could never hope to stand against the might of the Dark Lord … but I think I would like to hear you beg for mercy before I take your lives. The way James Potter begged - and his mudblood wife. How about it, wolf?'

Against his will, Remus looked at the raw skinned creature in the chair. He saw the cruel gleam in its scarlet eyes.

'Crucio!'

And then he was in pain like he had never felt before, in blinding torment and agony. He fell to the ground, screaming - his bones felt like they were on fire; he felt like he was being pulled apart from the inside; his head was ringing; he couldn't see for the pain. This was worse than the worst of his transformations - this was a tortuous, searing hurt that seeped through his skin and into every part of him, pinning him down and pulling him back and flooding through him like a tidal wave of unbearable suffering. He thought he was going to pass out - he hoped he was going to die - anything. He didn't care, just as long as it stopped.

Far above him, he could hear the cruel laughter of Voldemort - and the panicked and enraged bellows of Sirius, calling his name ... And then he heard the curse again.

'Crucio!'

And Sirius fell to the floor, shrieking. The sword fell from his hand and clunked onto the floorboards.

'Crucio!'

Sirius' screams were all Remus could hear now - the agonised yelling and thrashing around as he was tortured over and over …

But now Voldemort's wand was on Sirius, the pain for Remus was a little less. He was still half blind, and his bones still burned and screamed inside of him … But he could move … and the firelight was glinting on the blade of the fallen sword - tantalising - telling him what to do …

He reached for it. And immediately the pain flooded back through him - as the silver of the hilt burned and blistered his hands … But he clung onto it, ignoring the pain - ignoring the smoke that was starting to rise from his skin. He struggled to his feet and - screaming in agony - lumbered towards Voldemort.

Voldemort saw him - just a fraction too late. The cruel gleam of delight died in his eyes - and he took his wand off Sirius and raised it at Remus. But Remus already held the sword of Gryffindor high above his head and - almost fainting from the bubbling, burning, blistering of his palms, and trying to pretend the smell of cooking meat was not coming from himself - he plunged the sword down before Voldemort could cast his curse.

He felt it stick - and then crunch - and then squish - as the blade passed through skin and then sinew and bone. He kept on ramming the blade down until he felt the seat of the cushion … And Sirius had stopped screaming now, but Voldemort was screaming in his place. The flayed baby shrieked and writhed, it flailed its wasted limbs and cried out in agony. Remus held onto the sword, pushing down as firmly as he could, putting all his weight behind it - driving it deep into Voldemort and bellowing himself, as the silver bit into his hands and his skin smoked and blistered.

The same black smoke that had risen from Nagini began to rise from Voldemort - the same earsplitting, blood curdling yell emanated as the dark substance leaked out of the wasted little body and seeped out into the room.

Through all the noise - and all the pain, Remus kept on hanging onto the sword, pushing it through the tiny body and digging the blade deep into the chair until finally … finally … the limbs ceased their flailing, the screaming stopped, the red eyes closed - and the creature was still.

He let go of the sword with relief - and fell back to the floor, panting and gasping and trying not to cry.

The dark smoke coalesced into a ball - it hovered and shimmered and swirled through the room ... And then an icy voice whispered in his ear: 'I told you you were a killer, Remus Lupin,' before the blackness swooped to the window and disappeared into the night.

Remus sat on the floor - frozen - in shock - just staring down at his destroyed hands.